Great Bavarian Dumpling War

[talon]

I want to share with you a moment in my personal history. This began in February of 1967 and ended on Saturday, March 4, 1967. I don't know the exact date when it began, but a cousin of mine, Helmut Winter, decided he didn't want military flights buzzing his home in Pasing, Germany, just outside of Munich and not too far from the Schleissheim Air Base.

Being a man of some ingenuity, he built a massive crossbow on wheels. Some people have mistakenly called it a catapult, but I've seen it and it's definitely a crossbow. A really big crossbow.

And then he loaded it with the bread dumplings he and his wife adored and shot them at passing airplanes.

Pilots veered away from whatever he was shooting (they didn't initially know it was just dumplings), but their flight paths kept taking them over Helmut's house. And he kept shooting dumplings at them. The dumplings didn't have the aerodynamic ability to actually hit any of the airplanes if they were flying at a proper altitude. But they were flying so low that if Helmut had better aim, he might have actually hit one.

He sent letters of complaint to the German Army and the US Air Force, as they were both guilty of flying their planes too low.

And he kept up his dumpling fire, shooting indiscriminately at German and American planes. Bavarian citizens were applauding his actions and they named him the Robin Hood of Munich - a lone man and a dedicated dumpling-cooking wife fighting for the sanity and peace of the entire city of Munich and surrounding little towns. They loved him, and ate dumplings in his honor.

Until finally, both militaries surrendered to my cousin.

The Germans caved first because it was their citizenry that complained, but there was no formal surrender. German planes simply started flying at higher altitudes in order to be out of reach of Helmut's dumplings.

Major Donal Murphy, commander of the Schleissheim Air Base, decided to be more formal about this and invited Helmut and his wife to the base for a formal unconditional surrender.

Helmut and his wife, with a basket of fresh dumplings and their fat little dachsie drove on base, the crossbow packed in the trunk of the car. There, they met with Major Murphy in the cockpit of a Sikorsky helicopter sporting a dumpling-sized dent in it. Helmut maintained he never actually hit any of the passing planes and helicopters, and the Major jokingly took one of his wife's dumplings and placed it in the dent. It fit perfectly.

The men joked some more about the ammunition, the reason for the Great Bavarian Dumpling War, and the Major presented a document of unconditional surrender that stated the US Air Force would henceforth keep their craft at no lower than 1,500 feet when flying over Munich and its suburbs.

Helmut was pleased to win his war and graciously donated his crossbow and the basket of dumpling ammunition to the US Air Force.

The Major then invited Helmut, his wife, and their fat little dog to a peace meal - of Southern fried chicken and dumplings.

Helmut was (and still is!) a dumpling snob. His wife made the best ever dumplings - light, fluffy, dry, filled with little pieces of meat or croutons. American dumplings are, by comparison, soggy and wet and heavy. Helmut prodded his serving of dumplings and told the Major they were "Too soggy, much too soggy for shooting at airplanes - only good for smearing windshield."

The Major's jeep driver blanched at hearing this and Helmut laughed heartily, then reminded the driver that he'd given his dumpling shooter to the Air Force.

Schatzie (the little dachsie) ate her fill of dumplings that day. She didn't care if they were German or American - they were all good to her.

Everyone parted on good terms, the US Air Force never flew below 1,500 feet again, and all was well.

I don't know if the crossbow is still on display at the Schleissheim Air Base.

So, next time you eat a dumpling, remember, you can win wars with dumplings.